Little Erik Lensherr
by M. the Inspector
Summary: Shaw and Erik in the camp.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The way Shaw treats Erik when they meet as adults suggests that what went on between them was not just captivity characterized by unmitigated brutality. (Whew, that's a mouthful!) It was actually probably more twisted than that; I bet Shaw deliberately got into Erik's head on a whole bunch of levels. This is a short, non-violent peek at the sort of creepery I think was typical of their time together.**

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><p>Shaw surveyed the mess with an enormous frown. Broken syringes all over the floor, a guard nursing a bloody nose, and his prized pupil cowering in the corner, covering his head with both arms – which were marked with ropeburn and streaks of blood. "What happened here?"<p>

"Wouldn't sit still," the youngest doctor answered. "Again."

"I see. Everyone out." Shaw crouched down next to the hyperventilating child and waited til the room cleared. Then he sighed softly. "Erik."

Erik sucked in his breath and held it.

"Look at me." Shaw waited until he raised his head before speaking to him again. "Erik, why do they tie you down every morning to draw your blood?"

The boy frowned. "I-... I don't know," he said, fearfully, as if it might be some kind of trap. "Because you need it for your research?"

Shaw waved that away. "Yes yes. But what I mean is: why do they have to tie you down?"

He smiled, encouraging, as understanding dawned on the boy's blotchy face.

"That's right, son. They tie you down because you fight them – and they stick you up half a dozen times because it's hard to find a vein when you won't hold still. I'm sure that hurts. Doesn't it?"

Erik nodded.

"Then, how about this. From now on, you'll sit still and cooperate with the blood draws like an adult, and then it won't be so bad. Do you think you can do that, Erik?"

Erik sniffled and then wiped his face. He shrugged.

But Shaw knew better than to entrust the watershed training moments to any of his assistants; this first time was something he would have to do himself. "Let's find out. Give me your arm."

He shook his head frantically and hugged himself.

"Erik." Shaw hardened up his voice. "This is for your own good, to make things easier on _you,_ and I won't take no. I'll say again: give me your arm."

The boy finally moved to obey, but Shaw stopped him with a soft touch on the wrist. "Your _other _arm – that one's already had enough for one day, don't you think?"

Erik looked down at all the needle marks and gave a little laugh. He pushed up his other sleeve.

"Good boy." Shaw drew a clean syringe. "Now look away – it's better when you don't watch. There you go. Prick on three: one, two and _three_, that's right, keep looking away... and... done. There." He leaned away, tapping the syringe thoughtfully. "See how much easier it is when you cooperate? Here." He handed Erik a piece of tissue and had him press it to the tiny wound. Then he stood up and cleared his throat. "Now: was that easier, or not?"

Erik nodded. "Easier."

"Then that's how it's going to be _every day_ from now on, Erik – isn't it."

By now Erik knew a warning when he heard one. "Yes sir. Um... Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Will _you_ do it? Instead of the others?"

Shaw hid his elation and pretended to be put out. "I'm a busy man, Erik. You know I don't have time to come in here every time you need a blood draw."

"I know, but... but when you can?"

"All right. When I can."

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><p><strong>TBC.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Ok, I originally planned for that last scene to be a one-shot, but it turns out there were two more bits in my head I needed to get out. So here's one, and I'll post the last one (which is a teeny bit dark) tomorrow.**

**This takes place some time after the last chapter.**

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><p>Erik stared at the floor, at the puddle of blood, and knew he was about to die. He was crying.<p>

"Erik." Shaw's voice, far above him, was cool as ever. "Look at me."

Erik shook his head and cried harder. He heard Shaw shift and suddenly there was a hand on his chin, gripping hard, forcing him to look up. "I said, look at me."

Erik still couldn't quite look into his face; his attention was on the blood soaking Shaw's shoulder. The nail had been removed, but the wound was still there, a ragged hole, glistening. Still bleeding. His stomach flipped.

"I'm s-sorry," he sobbed. "I'm so s-s-sorry, I d-didn't mean to-… please… oh please…"

"Quiet_._" Shaw took hold of his shoulders and shook him softly. "Stop, Erik. Be quiet. Listen." He waited until the pleading died down and then said, slowly and clearly: "You must never, _ever_ apologize for who you are and what you can do. Do you hear me?"

Erik was startled into eye contact. "What?"

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Your instinct was to defend yourself and that's a good instinct, son, a healthy instinct." He shook him again, and this time it felt almost affectionate. "More importantly… you tore a nail from a wall and made it serve you – that's great! I'm proud of you. You don't have to apologize. Understand?"

Erik sniffled. "But… I cut you."

"Stabbed, actually. Same difference." Shaw shrugged. "But it's no problem, Erik, none at all. You didn't do it on purpose, did you?"

Erik shook his head no – frantically. "It just… happened. I was… and it…"

"Then, I'm not angry. Look at me. Do I look angry?"

Erik shook his head no again.

"We just need to work harder at controlling your powers, that's all. So we're going to step up your training a little from now on, all right? Are you ready for that?"

Erik nodded.

"Good boy. So let's get you to bed, then – you've got a tough day ahead of you tomorrow. A very, very tough day."

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><p>TBC.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is a bit darker, but not in a violent warning-requiring way. It's about how they finally started getting Erik's powers under conscious control.**

**Takes place some time after the last one.**

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><p>Shaw had been gone for a week, and in his absence Erik had been underfed and badly beaten at least once a day. He assumed the point was to make him grateful for the doctor's attention, and – though he hated to admit it – given the severity of what he was subjected to it had sort of succeeded. He was profoundly relieved when at last they collected him up off the floor of the basement and told him Shaw had returned.<p>

He got a shower, clean clothes, gauze for the cuts that still oozed. Then they brought him to the office. He fidgeted in the hallway while he was announced, planning out the best way to assure that he understood the lesson and had taken it to heart and wouldn't need a repetition.

But then he was called in and he discovered that, once again, Shaw was a step ahead of him.

The doctor was sitting behind his desk, hands folded. The desk's usual clutter was all gone. It was empty, completely empty, except for…

"Good choice, Erik," Shaw said, and Erik tore his eyes from it to look his tormentor in the face.

"Please don't," he said, realizing now how he'd been set up. He was an idiot. He _hated _himself for that, so powerfully that when Shaw stood and picked the whip up off the desk he almost felt he deserved it.

"They tell me," Shaw said, conversational, "That out of everything that was done to you, this was what you feared the most. Is that right? Tell me the truth."

Erik swallowed hard and looked down. "Yes." He would not start begging. It was beneath him – and it never helped anyway.

"Well, good choice." Shaw was smiling as he ran it through his fingers. "As far as a pain-to-damage ratio goes, very little around here will compete with a light leather bullwhip. Boots and clubs and all concern me. Somebody could crack your skull by accident, God forbid, and then-" He popped the whip for a sound effect. "-That's it for you. Right?"

Erik didn't answer.

"But with _this, _I can beat you til you go crazy, and still you'll be up and about in a couple of days. Which makes it," he popped it again, with just a flick of his wrist, "A very good motivational tool."

When he paused Erik seized his chance – this might be the only opportunity he got to talk the man out of whatever brutality he had planned. "Sir, I've told you it's not about motivation," he explained, fast but calmly. "You know I'm trying as hard as I can, you _know_ that. Scaring me doesn't help. It doesn't."

Shaw's eyebrows arched at the interruption but he let Erik finish. Then he smiled. "I know that, son. I've learned. I won't tell you _do that or I'll punish you _anymore_; _I know that isn't going to get us what we want."

What _we _want. The phrasing made Erik's skin crawl, but on some level it was accurate. He did want to use his powers. He did want to bend the world to his will.

Shaw was letting him speak freely today, it seemed, and that companionable _we _was the last confirmation he needed that it would be all right to push. "Then will you please put that away?" he said, as confidently as he could. "I'm behaving and I'm trying my best, so there's no reason to punish me. Or threaten to."

"Well, I won't punish you and I won't threaten." Shaw's smile was kind – too kind – and he didn't put down the whip.

So after a moment Erik guessed: "But…?"

"But, I want you to do more than _try_ to use your powers; I want you to succeed. And since it seems you can only succeed when you're hurt and angry..."

Erik backed away, shaking his head. "No."

"... I'm going to give you a terrible beating that you've done nothing to deserve."

"Don't," he managed. "Doctor, please."

"It's not up for discussion, Erik. Sorry. Take your shirt off so that I don't ruin it." When Erik just hugged himself he sighed. "Annoying me isn't going to make this go any easier."

"Please – there has to be another way."

Shaw gave him a nod that seemed meant to be encouraging. "There will be. I promise. Eventually you'll be able to call up rage in yourself at will. But until then, I'll help out, by giving you a little extra when you need it."

_Until then. _Suddenly he couldn't feel the fear any more – only a strange coldness in his stomach. It almost reminded him of what happened when the power rose up. "You're going to torture me until I become permanently angry," he said, flat.

"Permanently powerful," Shaw corrected, but didn't contest the basic point.

Erik absorbed it slowly, the idea that he was about to be changed – maybe ruined – for life. It didn't upset him nearly as much as he thought it ought to; the memory of crushing soldiers' skulls with their helmets was a great comfort. He found that the frames of Shaw's glasses were starting to call to him.

Shaw laughed softly and took them off his head. "I think you're closer than you know, son. My prediction is that in a couple of weeks we won't even need this thing." The whip twitched. "Go on and take your shirt off."

Erik did it without any more protesting, and as he did he became aware that there were coins in Shaw's pockets. He felt them. He wasn't able to take hold and deliberately move them, though.

Yet.

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><p>The End.<p>

**There we go – found what I was looking for. After I posted that first chapter I kept feeling like there was more creepery I was missing somehow, and… this was it.**

**Let me know what you think!**


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